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  “Yeah, but you and I both know that there have been far too many dirty cops, both locally and at the federal level. Just give me a little time to see what we can shake out, okay?”

  “All right. But keep me posted.”

  “Will do.” Nick hung up the phone and then put the car in gear.

  “Thank you, Nick,” she murmured softly.

  “Don’t thank me,” he said in a harsh tone. “We don’t have Joey back yet. And you need to know this may not turn out the way you want it to.”

  “We’ll get him back.” She wasn’t even going to consider the possibility of failure.

  He let out an exasperated sigh. “I hope so, but you have to understand that we don’t have a lot of time. If we don’t hear from the kidnappers soon, I won’t give you a choice. We will call in the FBI.”

  She wanted to argue, feeling deep down that calling in the FBI would be the worst thing they could do. After all, she knew from personal experience how the Mafia worked. The members of the mob were cruel and ruthless and wouldn’t hesitate to kill her son just to prove their point.

  The threatening notes she’d received were right. She had screamed in agony when they’d kidnapped her son. And if they demanded a ransom, she would repay her debts in order to get him back.

  Panic bubbled in her throat and she had to swallow the urge to start screaming all over again. She needed to stay calm, to think this through logically, if she was going to have any chance in finding Joey.

  After several long deep breaths, she felt somewhat calm. “You never did mention how you reached me so quickly,” she said, glancing over at Nick.

  There was a long silence before he admitted, “I followed you and Joey. I guess I was hoping to catch the guy in the act of leaving another note for you.”

  He’d been sitting in the parking lot of the elementary school? She tried to grapple with that revelation. “I didn’t see you,” she said. “And believe me, I was on alert, searching for signs of Frankie or one of his thugs.”

  Nick shifted in his seat. “I stayed in my car, a little ways down the road, just close enough to watch your vehicle.”

  She wasn’t sure that news was reassuring. If she hadn’t seen Nick, maybe she’d missed the driver of the black truck, too? She couldn’t bear the thought that she may have led the kidnapper straight to her son’s location.

  More deep breaths helped rein in her fear. She tried to find comfort in the fact that Nick had cared enough to try to protect her, but the image of her son being kidnapped by the driver of the truck was seared in her mind.

  Helplessly, she gazed down at her phone, looking at the text message again. Don’t call the police or I’ll kill him.

  Why hadn’t they already demanded money? That had to be the reason they’d kidnapped Joey. Nothing else made sense.

  “We should probably stay in a hotel tonight,” Nick said, breaking into her grim thoughts. “Especially because you received those threats at both your office and your home.”

  She pressed her fingertips against her aching temples, trying to think. “I guess a motel would be okay.”

  “It’s our best option. For now.”

  She understood the warning implication in his tone. This was a temporary plan at best. She stared down at her cell phone for another long moment, willing the kidnapper to contact her again. The sooner they told her how much money they wanted, the sooner she could get her son back, safe and sound.

  “Tell me what you know about Frankie Caruso,” Nick said quietly.

  Her stomach twisted into painful knots. “I’m afraid I don’t know much. I only met him for the first time at our engagement party and then again at our wedding. I knew he’d raised Anthony after his parents died, but I didn’t know about their link to the Mafia. Not until after we were married.”

  Nick glanced at her, and she wondered if he thought she was an idiot for not figuring out what was going on sooner. She’d often asked herself the same thing. She didn’t like to think about how naive she was back then. She graduated college early and by twenty-five had worked her way up in her father’s company to vice president. Hours of studying meant she hadn’t dated much. Anthony had swept her off her feet with his dashing good looks and his charm.

  It was only after they were married for a few months that she caught a glimpse of his dark side. But by then she’d discovered she was pregnant and tried to make the marriage work.

  Until she was on the receiving end of his violent temper.

  “Has Frankie been living here in Chicago?” Nick pressed.

  “Early on, he did, but after Anthony won his second term as state senator, Frankie moved down to Phoenix. Anthony told me that his uncle was tired of the brutal Chicago winters.”

  “But you think Frankie’s back in the area?”

  She lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug. “Honestly, I haven’t kept track of Anthony’s uncle in the years since our divorce. I was lucky to get away from Anthony early in our marriage, shortly after Joey’s first birthday.” Two years of marriage that had seemed like a lifetime. “I suspect that since Anthony is dead, Frankie might have come back to take his place within the Mafia.”

  “Rachel, there isn’t much of the Mafia left for him to return to,” he said. “I happen to know that Bernardo Salvatore and his right-hand man, Russo, are both dead.”

  The news surprised her. “Really? How?”

  He pressed his lips into a grim line. “I can’t go into details other than to tell you that I was there when they were killed. You have to consider there might be someone else besides Frankie Caruso after you.”

  “I’m telling you there’s no one else I can think of,” she said, wishing he would believe her. “Besides, if Salvatore and this Russo guy are dead, then it makes even more sense to me that Frankie came back to Chicago. Clearly he wants to pick up the crime syndicate where Salvatore left off.”

  “Maybe. I’ll try running a search on him,” Nick murmured. “It’s possible we’ll get lucky.”

  She didn’t bother to tell Nick that she didn’t feel lucky. The thought of her son being held by the Mafia, alone and afraid, made fear clog her throat to the point she could barely breathe. Outside the passenger-side window, she stared at the holiday decorations lighting up people’s houses. Would Joey be back in time for Christmas? She couldn’t even imagine the possibility that he wouldn’t be.

  Nick pulled up to a low-budget motel and secured two connecting rooms. She reluctantly took her room key from his hand, knowing she couldn’t relax, couldn’t rest.

  Not until she found her son.

  * * *

  “Rachel?” She glanced up when she heard Nick call her name from the open doorway between their rooms.

  “What is it?” she asked, rising to her feet and crossing over to meet him in the doorway.

  “Are you hungry?”

  She grimaced and shook her head. “No.” The mere thought of food made her nauseous. “You mentioned doing a search on Frankie Caruso. Do you have a laptop with you?”

  “Yeah, I have my laptop,” Nick replied. “So far, I haven’t found much.”

  Frankie Caruso was too smart to leave an obvious trail. She kept her phone gripped in her hand, unable to bear the thought of losing the small link that she had with Joey’s kidnapper. She hated to think of what her son might be suffering through right now. Why hadn’t they contacted her again? What were they waiting for? “We have to keep searching. We have to find something!”

  “Rachel, I know you’re upset, but there isn’t much more I can do. If we don’t hear something soon, we’ll have no choice but to pull in the FBI.”

  “No. We can’t.” The very thought of bringing in the authorities nearly made her double over in pain. “Your boss promised us some time, right? I’m sure the kidnappers will contact me soon.�
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  “All right.” There was a hint of disappointment in his gaze. She told herself she didn’t care what Nick thought of her. He couldn’t possibly imagine what she was going through. Or what she’d already suffered at the hands of the Mafia. She’d lived with Anthony for two long terrible years and had learned early on that confronting the Mafia directly only made them angry.

  She didn’t want the man who’d kidnapped Joey to take his anger out on her son.

  “I’m going to get something to eat,” Nick said over his shoulder. “Stay here and don’t let anyone in except for me.”

  “Can I use your laptop while you’re gone?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

  She waited for him in the doorway, gratefully taking the computer from his hands. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll be back soon,” he said huskily, and he closed the connecting door on his side.

  She opened the computer and tried to think of what little she remembered from those early days with Anthony—the places he went, the people he considered friends. She’d purposefully pushed all those bad memories out of her mind after she escaped, so dredging them up again wasn’t easy.

  Typing Frank Caruso’s name into the search engine didn’t bring up many hits. She tried using Luigi Gagliano’s name too, as he was a distant cousin to Anthony.

  Still nothing. And as she stared blankly at the computer, a terrible thought occurred to her.

  Here she was, waiting for Joey’s kidnappers to call with some sort of ransom demand, but what if she was on the wrong track? What if Frankie didn’t want her money, but simply wanted her son?

  Frankie had raised Anthony, bringing him into the world of crime at a young age. Was it possible he wanted to use Joey as a surrogate for Anthony?

  Was it possible that Frankie was, right now, driving far away with her son?

  Rachel’s heart rate soared as she surged to her feet. Nick had been right! They should have called the police and the FBI right away! If Frankie had kidnapped Joey for personal reasons then he already had a head start on them.

  She grabbed her phone, intending to call Nick, but then forced herself to stop and think. Why would Frankie send her threatening letters, saying she would repay her debts, if he didn’t want money?

  Pacing the length of the small motel room helped calm her ragged nerves. Her ankle throbbed, but she ignored it. She’d never had a panic attack like this before, not even in the dark days after Anthony had beaten her. She had to stop overreacting to every thought. Every remote possibility.

  Somehow she had to be smarter than Frankie Caruso or Luigi Gagliano.

  She sat down at the small desk and clicked on the mouse to reactivate Nick’s computer. There was one angle she hadn’t considered, and that was Frankie’s ex-wife, Margie Caruso. Frankie and Margie had divorced the year Rachel was pregnant with Joey, but, surprisingly, they’d stayed on friendly terms. She’d often wondered if Margie had also been involved in illegal activities; otherwise, why wouldn’t Frankie have tried to silence his ex-wife? After all, Anthony had often threatened to kill Rachel if she ratted him out.

  Anthony’s threats hadn’t been empty ones, either.

  And if Margie was part of the Mafia, it wasn’t a stretch to think that she could be in cahoots with Frankie on this kidnapping scheme.

  A quick search revealed that Margie was still living in the Chicago area. She wrote down the address, determined to convince Nick that they needed to pay the woman a surprise visit.

  THREE

  Nick couldn’t stop thinking about Rachel and Joey as he ran a few errands. He understood what Rachel was going through—he’d been inconsolable after his wife and daughter went missing, too. He knew he shouldn’t let his emotions get in the way of doing what was right, but seeing the pain etched on Rachel’s face was impossible to ignore.

  After picking up some new clothes he’d put a call in to his FBI buddy, Logan Quail, only to find out his friend was out of the country on his honeymoon. No wonder Logan hadn’t returned his calls. The timing was unfortunate, since Logan’s expertise would have been perfect for Rachel’s situation.

  But he’d just have to use another way to help Rachel find her son.

  As he was picking up some fast food, his phone rang and he was surprised to discover that the caller was his boss, Ryan Walsh. “Hi, Captain.”

  “Butler. We have some news from the crash scene you called in earlier.”

  “You do?” He juggled the phone as he handed over cash and accepted the bag of food from the bored teen at the window. “What do you have?”

  “We got a hit on one of the fingerprints. Perp’s name is Ricky Morales and he’s got a rap sheet, largely for drug busts, but, most recently, he was arrested for armed robbery. He just got out on bail about six months ago.”

  Nick pulled away from the drive-through window and parked in the first open slot he saw. “Do you think Morales has found a home working as a thug for the Mafia?”

  His boss grunted. “Don’t see why not. It’s a lead worth following since the truck is registered in his name, too. Explains why he dumped his ride as soon as he did. I’ll send his last-known address to you in an email. Where are you right now?”

  “Getting something to eat.” Nick didn’t want to say too much. “We also have a possible suspect in Frankie Caruso, who happens to be Anthony Caruso’s uncle. Ms. Simon is convinced that Frankie is back to take over the Mafia.”

  “What do you think?” Walsh asked.

  “I think she could be right. You might want to see what you can find out about Caruso’s activities. In the meantime, we’ll start looking for leads related to Ricky Morales.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” He could hear his boss scribbling notes. “Good work so far, Butler. Keep in touch.”

  “I will.” Nick disconnected from the call and stared at his phone for a moment. He debated searching for Morales right now, but then decided he needed to get back to the motel. At least he had some positive news to give Rachel.

  The drive didn’t take long. He grabbed the clothes and the bag of food, his mouth watering at the aroma of burgers and fries, and swiped his key card. The moment he closed the motel door behind him, he heard Rachel knocking on the connecting door.

  “Coming,” he called as he reached for the door. He smiled at her. “Don’t argue, but I brought food for the both of us.”

  “There’s no time to eat,” Rachel said in a rush. “Look what I’ve discovered.” She gestured to the computer screen. “Margie Caruso, Frankie’s ex-wife still lives outside of Chicago. We have to get over there right away.”

  Her excitement was palpable. “Good news, but I have something to follow up on, too.” He pushed the laptop out of the way so he could haul the food out of the bag. “I’ll search while we eat.”

  Rachel frowned, but he noticed she was staring at the burgers and fries as if her appetite may have returned. He bowed his head and gave a quick prayer of thanks. Rachel didn’t say anything, respecting his silent prayer, until he finished and dug into his food. “What are you following up on?” she asked.

  “Sit down and eat,” he suggested.

  She grimaced, but came over to sit beside him. As if she couldn’t help herself, she popped a French fry into her mouth. He waited until she surrendered to her inevitable hunger by unwrapping the second sandwich and taking a bite before telling her what his boss had uncovered.

  “You think this Ricky Morales is the guy who kidnapped Joey?” she asked, her green eyes filled with hope. “I mean, that seems to be the most logical conclusion. And we should be able to find him, right?”

  He nodded, even though he knew tracking Morales down wouldn’t be quite that easy. As he ate, he pulled up his email and jotted down the information his boss had sent. “Here’s his last-known address
. It’s on the opposite side of town from Margie Caruso’s place.”

  “It’s only eight-thirty...there’s plenty of time yet to head over to see what we can find. I need to keep busy, searching for Joey We have to find him as soon as possible!”

  “We’ll check both addresses out tonight,” he assured her.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  He shook his head, not wanting her gratitude. He was beginning to identify with Rachel on a personal level. Her fear tugged at his heart. He knew, only too well, what she was going through. Those hours his wife and daughter were missing had been the longest, darkest hours of his life. And when the news came in that they were both found dead in their mangled SUV at the bottom of a ravine, his grief had been overwhelming. Without his faith, he never would have survived the dark days following their deaths.

  Grimly, he hoped and prayed that Rachel’s outcome would be different. Please, Lord, keep Joey safe in Your care and guide us in finding him. Amen.

  * * *

  Rachel pushed away her half-eaten sandwich and the remaining cold French fries, her patience wearing thin. She couldn’t bear the thought of sitting here another minute. If she didn’t take some sort of action to help find her son, she’d go stark, raving mad.

  She tapped her fingers impatiently on the table, as Nick finished his meal. “I bought a dark sweatshirt for you, since that pink one is too easily seen at night, and a new pair of athletic shoes,” he said between bites. “Also hats and gloves. Why don’t you change while I finish up?”

  “Okay, thanks,” she said, reaching down for the bag of clothes. The shoes were a welcome sight, and while she loved her pink sweatshirt, she realized Nick was right about how it stood out. The black sweatshirt beneath her jacket would blend far better with the night.

  She disappeared into the bathroom and quickly changed. Her left ankle was swollen, but she managed to get that shoe on by loosening the laces. The pain in her foot was nothing compared to the gaping hole in her heart.